


vulpes corvum

by alondra (alaundry)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Intimacy, M/M, Murder Mystery, Own Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22636195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaundry/pseuds/alondra
Summary: a collection of short-ish raven cycle drabbles/stories, both with canon characters/situations and non.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Kudos: 7





	1. introduction/trigger warnings

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys enjoy these stories! i worked really hard on them mostly two years ago, but picked them back up this year because it hit me just how awesome this book series is and how i am absolutely head-over-heels for richard gansey iii <3__<3

these drabbles will be focused on the characters or universe in maggie stiefvater's 'the raven cycle' series, and might include the following (which will be tagged in each chapter):

  * violence 
  * sexual intimacy (both lgb & straight)
  * deviancies from canon



and maybe more (which will continue to be updated as i go along)

i hope you enjoy!


	2. nowhere / bloodlines { adam parrish + ronan lynch }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "who do i blame, parrish?"  
> "why do you always have to blame someone?"
> 
> [ in which adam reaches out for help from ronan on an impulse decision, after blue breaks up with him. ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAY ROMANCE/RELATIONSHIP, ANGST, CUSSING

**"i need you."**

those three words hit ronan head on like a semi truck he hadn't turned in time to see. he hadn't seen it coming, maybe expected it to hit someone else while he drove away.

... no. it wouldn't have been a semi that hit ronan. he was too intimidating for that, the truck would have turned on its fucking heels and scurried off to its mother.

the pig. that stupid orange camaro would be the car to slam into him. and ronan wasn't sure he would even care if he was okay. just if the pig was.

ronan didn't ask any questions, knowing where adam would be but not why. he would figure that out later.

the chiseled boy made his way to monmouth manufacturing. gansey was out on a war mongering mission in d.c. to play house with his parents and sister with a few politicians and godly folk. blue was asleep at 300 fox way. noah was probably with her. ronan had escaped to the henrietta junkyard a few hours ago, coaxing chainsaw to wake the neighbors.

the lights were off in the building gansey had refurbished so they could live in.

ronan cursed himself. it always came back to him.

clean cut and shaved, he climbed up the steps and headed up the stairs to the room he knew adam was in. parrish didn't usually enjoy staying in the place gansey had set up to be where they lived. his tendency to try and be self reliant had only intensified ever since the incident with his father. he had heard the phrase: "i don't need your pity" more times than he could count.

the both physical and mental abuse he had gone through was probably to blame. though you never could tell with adam.

said cracked boy trying to put himself back together was pressing his veiny hands against the sheets of his bed, cursing and fidgeting. he seemed as if he was looking for something, but his eyes didn't really scan the room. rather, they looked empty.

ronan stood in the doorway of the bedroom, leaning against the wooden frame and arching a thick eyebrow. his brain was telling him to stay silent. but he always went with his gut feeling anyways.

"what happened this time?" he asked, nonchalantly allowing his faint irish accent to seep into the boring question.

this time.

he said it with such a sharp edge, adam would have considered it an accusing tone from anybody else. but never ronan.

he didn't slow down, throwing the thin blankets off of the mattress. adam's breaths were heavy and short in the cold december air. they didn't have air conditioning.

"adam?"

"latin--homework," he bit out. adam's voice was hoarse, like slapping two blackboard erasers together. "stupid--whelk."

that got ronan interested enough to take a step forward. he moved closer to the anxious boy and reached a hand forward. he clapped it on his shoulder, grip firm, and pulled backwards. he spun adam around to face him and instantly frowned.

his blue eyes seemed more gray at this point. the pupils had dilated to the point of nearly overwhelming what little color he had left. the color of the blue was once pretty, like a girl's. in this situation, however, he looked like a crazed wild animal backed up into a corner.

"you've been crying."

he had been. the whites of adam's eyes had a slight red tinge to them, and the slowly desaturating skin around them was slowly swelling. his nose matched the color of candy, or maybe salmon. it was a stark contrast against the rest of his face, like somebody had decided he needed a little more fluorescence and decided to paint a splatter onto his nose.

"nice crack at the case, sherlock," managed adam through a shaky cough and a deep wheeze. the henrietta air, especially up here, wasn't the cleanest.

"what happened?" ronan demanded, bony hands reaching to cup the boy's cheeks and tilt his head around, studying his appearance.

if it was any possible to, adam's face flushed deeper.

"stupid fucking latin homework," he answered, voice tightening. not because ronan was physically hindering his ability to talk, but because ronan was just there. his presence alone sparked his heart to beat faster.

"bullshit," the other boy snarled. scary to others, but beautiful to adam, who didn't flinch.

"what?"

"don't play dumb with me. you don't cry over latin homework."

"i shouldn't," adam snapped back at him, yanking his arm back and pushing his hand off of his body. he turned around, walking towards the door and getting out of the room. it was getting stuffy in just ronan's presence.

if gansey had been there...

adam reached up to harshly pinch at his collarbone with his nails, wincing. it hurt but he needed to snap out of the daze gansey put him in.

gansey, and blue, and noah, and everybody else in this godforsaken town.

ronan beat him to the bathroom. he stood in the doorway, arms outstretched so he couldn't get through. he arched an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.

"don't do anything fucking stupid," he told him, narrowing his eyes.

adam knew what he meant. something self-harming. ronan knew everything about that, ever since he...

"i won't. i'm not you," he spat, crossing his arms and glaring up at the irish boy. he knew his words stung, only because they came from him specifically, but he knew that ronan wouldn't go anywhere or change his demeanor.

ronan rolled his cold blue eyes, taking a step forward and nearly barreling into the smaller boy since he took such a giant step backwards.

their chests touched briefly, just for a moment, before adam ducked beneath ronan's arms to get into the bathroom. he leaned over the sink, turning the faucet on and splashing water on his face. it was red and his heart was pounding. for some reason, he was breathless.

"tell me what happened," demanded ronan, turning to face him.

adam looked up into the mirror. his eyes met ronan's and couldn't look away.

"why?"

"because you're being pissy and it's annoying. suck it up and just tell me."

"you won't be able to help, ronan! no one will!"

"what's going on?" he deadpanned, finally having enough.

ronan took a few steps forward and reached out to grab harshly at adam's shoulders, shaking him a few times and looking down into his eyes. they were both blue but somehow still different.

the smaller, dehydrated boy stared up at the taller, scrunching up his nose like he did when he flinched and expected a punch.

ronan took a heavy breath and sighed, knowing this moment in particular reminded adam of his father. he stepped back, shaking his head and reaching up to rub a calloused hand over his shaved head. he could feel a bit of hair prickling through his scalp, and made a note to remind himself to get a "haircut".

"just tell me already," he muttered, voice sounding tired.

adam turned his head to the side, at the exposed shower head and tiles in the walls. he felt like the leaky faucet, having to learn to let his emotions out little by little instead of bottling it all up and waiting to explode. it was torture though.

"blue."

he said one word and ronan froze.

"blue? what does she have to do with this?" he asked, the cold edge returning to his voice.

the sargent girl was too close to adam for his liking, causing him to hang off of every word she said. they sat together the chances they could get, and he could see the lovesick puppy in his blue eyes. blue had a hint of affection in her brown ones. it made ronan sick to think that adam was running after someone that didn't deserve him, much less only thought of him as a friend.

"she decided to cut it off."

a small part of ronan's spirit lifted briefly when he heard this. but the overwhelming side of himself immediately rushed to comfort adam, who was obviously grieving.

over what? some girl in a family full of psychics who can't do shit?

"that's her loss," the boy with the shaved head snarled, rolling his eyes and huffing. he leaned back and crossed his arms. "that's why you're blubbering and not talking to me? over a girl?"

"not everyone is as bulletproof as you," adam barked back, ducking under ronan's arms and heading towards his room once more.

he turned to watch him do so, arms still folded tightly across his firm chest and fingers tapping impatiently against the pale skin of his arms exposed through his tank top. "man up, parrish."

"you're kidding me, right?!" adam suddenly shouted, turning on his heel and staring at the lynch boy. "man up?"

"when have i ever been someone that kids anyone? especially you?"

"never! i shouldn't have expected the great ronan lynch to change in any way, shape, or form for anyone other than himself!"

the two teens went quiet, both of them panting heavily as if they had just finished sprinting a mile. they usually felt like that around each other. out of breath.

after a few minutes of just staring at each other, ronan spoke up. his voice was the same. it never changed. "she obviously hurt you. i was never really fond of her, i knew i should have told you--"

"don't blame her," he interrupted, settling down on the edge of the bed. he reached up, raking his long fingers through his dark and greasy hair. adam needed to do something about that. he needed to do something about every part of his body; the bruises and the scratches against his sickly pale skin were a constant reminder of robert parrish, having to learn to rely on yourself while taking care of a man that would sooner break your bones than wish you any luck in life.

ronan's head tilted to the side. he watched adam's knee bounce up and down, his nose scrunching and sniffling. he noticed that he would do this thing where he would quickly press his thumb against the pads of all of his other fingers.

"who do i blame, parrish?" he asked, squinting and taking steps closer.

he watched as adam slowly sunk in on himself. he knew that he felt like an alien in the building, he had always seen it. this was not a place for broken boys like him; it was a place for boys that strayed from the path created for them with ease.

adam was not like those boys.

"why do you always have to blame someone?" he responded with a question, knowing how much that irritated ronan.

he stood in front of adam, thick brows furrowed. his jaw clenched in and out, adam's apple bobbing up and down.

they stayed quiet again.

it's not like there's nothing to say. it's a volatile situation. why does he care?

why does he care?

adam felt the spot beside him on the bed slowly dip with pressure. it was impossible not to feel ronan's presence when he was around you. some people felt like the calm before the storm. he felt like the storm itself, at the very least its aftermath. staring at a wreckage, the violent winds threatening to rip you from the inside out and throw you to the wolves if you so much as even stepped wrong.

"i'd like to be proud, but somehow, i'm ashamed," ronan spoke quietly. his calloused hand reached up to press against adam's knee. he couldn't stop it from bouncing, but he could let it know that it wasn't alone.

adam turned his head. the two were close, physically now to match their proximity in all other aspects. he could feel ronan's hot and heavy breath against his lips, and his free hand snaking against his lower back behind them.

"did you just quote the neighbourhood at me?" he asked, lashes fluttering as he looked down towards ronan's mouth.

"fuck you, parrish."

and then, they were kissing.

blue had never let adam kiss her. he didn't know what it felt like, so he couldn't really compare the experience to any other. and something gave him the impression that even if he could, this would skyrocket out of the building.

ronan's lips were dry of any moisture and had a faint taste of iron glued to them. they had a certain fierceness to them that made him genuinely believe that it was blood. adam's lips had a few patches where the skin had been nibbled and ripped off, practically pumped full of lip balm to prevent them from becoming like his hands.

it was an awkward position. but neither ronan nor adam would have traded it for the world. this was not safe, this was the opposite of safe. but they were drowning in each other and couldn't get enough, not now that they had a brief encounter.

ronan was a swirling abyss. adam was a shattered jar. they shouldn't have fit so well together.

their hearts pounded, blood heating as it traveled through their veins. adam could taste the gasoline in his mouth. he couldn't tell who it was coming from.

who's going to light the match?

this was not safe. this was dangerous.

somehow, adam found his back pressed against the bed's surface. he blinked his way back into reality and reached his hands up, pressing them against ronan's firm chest. he felt the muscles rippling there. they were ripples on a lake after skipping a stone.

the taller boy lifted his body off of his, staring down into his blue eyes with shallow breaths. ronan noticed now that adam's lower lip was bleeding, tiny imprints of teeth around the wound. 

neither spoke.

after a few moments of gazing at each other, adam's hands moved away from ronan's torso. instead, they slithered their way against a certain spot between his shoulder blades, arms wrapping around his neck. once confirming mentally that this was a good sign, ronan lowered his body to rest against adam's side on the bed. their arms were tangled with each other, bodies and souls intertwined like thread.

both relatively thin, on the verge of snapping. but for now, in this moment, while falling asleep, both ronan and adam felt grounded in reality. their roots spread down into the earth, and they were real.

they were alive. for now, in this moment, they were so fucking alive.


	3. leave you { henry cheng x cosette atchinson }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cosette seemed like she was resisting the urge to punch henry square in the nose, and pointed. to their right, there was a white sign halfheartedly shoved into the soft grass, reading: private property. no trespassing. violators will be persecuted.  
> / they spelled 'prosecuted' wrong. /  
> / that's what i'm hoping. /
> 
> [ in which cosette & henry cheng spend their last afternoon together. ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STRAIGHT IMPLIED RELATIONSHIP, FLUFF UNTIL THE END, IMPLIED MURDER/DEATH, CANON DEVIANCY (ADDITION OF POWER TO A REGULAR CHARACTER), OWN CHARACTER (COSETTE ATCHINSON), BEST FRIENDS, CUSSING

**"vancouver's a long way off from virginia."**

she said this with a smile on her lips, face contorted to match it. weirdly, she still had a calm air about her, body slumped forward while she cradled her chin in a hand with the elbow propped up. if someone didn't know anything about the two teenagers sitting together at that diner, ninos, they probably would have assumed that there was some sort of romance or affection going on.

i mean, what with the way she gazed at him. it was at least one sided, if not mutual (if henry didn't seem so caught up in reading his menu and deciding what to eat).

"yeah, i would think so. 4,247 kilometers is an awfully long distance. took us, like, two whole days to get here."

"mm. i would have said that 2,639 miles is a longer distance," drawled the girl. she leaned back in the leather seat, humming under her breath quietly and pressing the palms of her hands down against the cold, metal table. "two whole days. a weekend. was it worth it?"

"if the waffles here are any good. do you usually get the bacon on the side?"

"i'm a vegetarian."

"right. so cosette here orders the absence of bacon. ghost bacon. do they charge extra for that?"

"just a bit. the tax dollars have to go to building henrietta's roads, after all," she said with an edge to her voice. just a bit of playfulness lingered after she finished speaking. the only sign that she wasn't serious were her lips pulled up into a sharp smile and her eyes glittering forcefully. her skin bent and folded around the deep scar carved into her cheek, stretching up toward her left ear.

"you sound like some of the guys at aglionby."

"you are, in fact, one of those _guys_ ," answered cosette, smile growing a bit wider and even more dangerous. no wonder nobody really hung out with her. a high school dropout, cursed to forever chase a dream of leaving stupid west virginia and stupid henrietta. she didn't want to stay in the town, in the state, in the country. "a bit cuter and a bit stupider, though."

"i take," henry began, pointing his fork at her, "a lot of offense to that."

"i complimented you along with the insult."

"i don't take offense to that; i take offense to the so-called compliment. i'm fucking hot, not _cute_."

"keep telling yourself that, cheng," cosette hummed in a nonchalant voice.

"i'm serious!" he protested, sarcasm seeping into his words.

"on the hotness scale, you're about a seven point thirty eight. on the cuteness scale, however, you wouldn't even know it stops at ten— yeah, hi."

the waitress for the diner had come over, smiling kindly at them and looking between their faces. cosette's had adjusted easily to the change of scenery, a polite grin on her own lips.

"are you two ready to order?" she asked, never aware of their toes pressing against each others' ankles under the table and kicking each other.

it was sort of like footsies, if footsies had gone to the gym and taken steroids.

"yes. she'll have the strawberry pancakes with a side of hash browns and bacon."

"and _he'll_ have the confetti birthday cake waffles with nutella and eggs on the side."

the waitress blinked her brown eyes a few times, feeling a bit confused and strung out over their words. she tilted her head, opening her mouth to let out jumbled words.

"well, uh. how would... _he_ like his eggs?"

henry and cosette shared a thoughtful glance, and he simply hummed softly.

"over easy," she answered the woman, looking up with her signature, polite smile.

she nodded slowly in understanding, jotting this down. "and to... drink?"

"orange juice," they spoke in unison, hands clasped together. it was a routine, showing off that they could 'guess' what the other would say or do or think.

she nodded. the waitress— jan, judging by her name tag— turned and headed toward the kitchen to deliver the confusing yet simple order to the cook.

it was henry who leaned forward on the table and propped his chin up now, switching poses with the girl across from him. "it's your turn, by the way."

"my turn for what, cheng?"

"don't play dumb with me. it's your turn to answer a few questions."

"oh, this is a _game_?" cosette asked, tilting her head and letting out a laugh that sounded more like a mix between a scoff and a rottweiler's bark. "wait, don't tell me. it's an interrogation."

"mm," the boy mused. "anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

" _henry_ _cheng_."

"we'll discuss that later. what do you want to do when you grow up?"

"i already answered a question, you know. when you asked about the extra price on the absence of bacon. ghost bacon. better than actual bacon."

"the rule, which i'm currently making overrule all other rules because minorities rule, is that you have to answer questions about your _own life_."

cosette thought over this for a moment. she hummed and held the back of her neck with her two hands relaxedly, a brow arched and a casual, lopsided smile on her lips. "alright. sounds good. you know when you say a word a bunch of times over and over, and it doesn't even really sound like a real word anymore? _question, question, question..._ "

"what do you want to be when you grow up?" henry repeated, leaning forward.

if cosette imagined hard enough, she could see his arm slipping out from underneath him and watch him fall, laugh at how his forehead would hit the hard table's surface.

"not in henrietta."

"i already knew that. what do you want to _do_?"

she rolled the _question_ between her fingers in her mind. she studied it, thought over the possible and cliché answers. _i could want to travel, sing, dance, mime, act. i could race cars without a care in the world. if i were a billionaire, i could do all of them at the same time, even if i didn't want to._

the truth was, cosette had next to no idea of what she wanted to do in the future. her ability to connect with others in an otherworldly way practically made her career as a social worker or something of the sort. maybe there wasn't really anything otherworldly about being likable. a lot of people are likable. she wasn't special.

"i don't know," she decided finally.

"that's not an answer, even if i sort of get what you mean about being special."

"well, obviously it is. i'm not really good at anything except making japanese boys fall in love with me, and besides, i think that industry's dying."

henry stifled a laugh. "i'm chinese and korean."

"oh, never mind then. that business is booming."

"sounds like you have your life made out for you already, then. i mean, who needs high school, right?"

"rhetorical question. are those in play for the game?"

the boy glanced towards the kitchen and the bar section of the diner. he didn't expect that the waitress would be long with their food. (by their food, he usually meant her food. cosette had a big appetite).

"i guess. it's up to you."

_minorities rule._

_question, question, question._

_stop fucking with my head._

she ran her fingers through her hair, short and brown scattered messily. "just wasn't for me. why pay all that unnecessary money to listen to a bunch of old guys reciting the same shit over and over until they work themselves to death?"

"i think mr. whelk is pretty cool, even if he is a local."

"he once told me that i look like a model."

"isn't that a compliment?"

"a model for victoria's secret."

"well, he's not wrong— ow!" henry yelped in a high pitched voice and jerked back, reaching down and under the table to rub at his tender and recently abused knee. "god _damn_ , woman!"

"you need jesus. take advice from some of these christian locals."

"i _hate_ the locals—"

the two rolled their eyes at the same time. cosette straightened and flashed another smile, just a hint of anger in her eyes and dimples. the waitress— _jan_ — had returned with plates of food balanced on her arms.

"and here is... ah. yours," she said, setting the waffles in front of henry on the table's surface. she did the same with the pancakes and cosette, then serving their orange juice. "if you need anything else, just give me a holler and i'll be glad to help you."

as she was walking away, the two teenagers were silent for a moment. they spoke up at the same time. "you freaked her out."

they sighed, in unison (as they usually did). cosette got started cutting her pancakes into bite size pieces, sliding the plate with bacon over to henry. henry, meanwhile, was too busy drowning his already sickly sweet waffles in maple syrup to notice that the girl had really done anything. both teenagers ate quickly and loudly, not minding the rest of the customers in the diner looking over at them.

after they finished, cosette being first, henry began to stack the plates with a beat-box remix of the _thomas & friends _theme song, which resulted in cosette's inevitable groaning. "dude, that's literally the stupidest thing i've ever heard, quit it."

"you've most certainly heard joseph kavinsky's voice in the past, so what you just said is completely invalid," henry told her as a matter of factly.

"... he is pretty stupid, i know."

"i _know_ you know, because i know."

"you don't have to say it out loud; people will think we're twins or something."

"obviously not identical. i'm _much_ more beautiful, despite our _link_."

cosette went quiet at that. they usually switched positions when it came to who was uncomfortable talking about their less-than-plausible connection, and right now it was her turn. 

after a few moments of being almost comforted by each others' thoughts, they finished their drinks at the same time and stood. both teenagers scooted out of the leather booth and made their way to the door.

"you're not gonna pay?" cosette asked in a rather loud voice, turning to look at henry and walk backwards.

henry let out a loud groan, knowing that the other customers now had their eye on him permanently. he glared at the girl, spinning on his heel and dramatically huffing his way back to their table. he shimmied a few dollar bills under the stacked menus, knowing full well that he had already paid. cosette and him had had a non-verbal conversation about giving the waitress a tip, since she had to deal with them and their antics.

non-verbal was how most of their conversations went.

cosette led the way out of the diner, laugh echoing like a hyena's when henry's quick footsteps padded on after her. he was panting just a tad while he caught up with her, jogging until their pace was equal. "you're an asshole."

"sure, i am. hey, if i'm such an asshole, why don't you go back, off to your van _couver_ gang, up at litchfield?" she said it like she was accusing him of something, like he had just stolen something from her and was trying to defend himself— but he hadn't even said anything.

henry did that thing where he sort of pouted but also sort of furrowed his eyebrows. his whole face just ended up scrunching. "you're not _really_ an asshole... or, at least, you're not _that_ much of an asshole. i was just saying."

"tipping makes the world go round, you know."

there was a fork in the road coming up in front of the two, and cosette naturally leaned toward the left path. henry followed behind, but couldn't help his head from turning and gazing longingly at the right one. maybe next time, if there was a next time, he would be able to lead their journeys.

"i suppose. it depends on how you look at it."

"it?"

"everything. now shut up, cheng," she commanded with unsurprising fervor, suddenly dropping to her knees.

henry blinked a couple of times, staring at her while she coaxed her long and bony fingertips through the coarse, moist dirt. she was kind of disgusting.

_what the fuck are you doing, now?_

_i felt something, underneath the ground. i need to see what it is._

_it's probably just some stupid echo. you're terrible at walking past things you don't need and not picking them up._

_shut the hell up and help me. it might be a stupid dream thing._

that convinced him. henry didn't hesitate to dramatically sigh, kneeling beside his best friend and pushing his own hands through the ugly, brown dirt, pulling it out of the way. he felt like a dog, digging against solid ground purely out of instinct— this was what he was primed to do. but he didn't feel like he was going to get anything out of it. cosette, obviously, didn't feel the same.

"do you see any—?"

_shh!_

henry frowned, turning to look at her questioningly. what was her problem?

_what if somebody hears us, stupid head?_

_oh wow, really mature, pretty lady. are we not supposed to be here?_

cosette seemed like she was resisting the urge to punch henry square in the nose, and pointed. to their right, there was a white sign halfheartedly shoved into the soft grass, reading: **private property. no trespassing. violators will be persecuted.**

_they spelled 'prosecuted' wrong._

_that's what i'm hoping._

henry's skin suddenly made contact with something warm and smooth. his arms froze up, and cosette noticed, by the way she suddenly shoved him aside with her shoulder to search in the same spot. he huffed loudly, petulantly crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against a tree.

_fine. whatever. you're the one who wanted to come anyways. i don't care._

she ignored him, sifting through the mud feverishly and finally scooping out what henry had touched: a necklace.

it was a strange shade of gold, rusted in a way but smoothed over. it looked like the flecks of red were embedded in the metal; it was meant to look that way.

all of the color flushed out of cosette's face and went to her fingertips instead. the skin touching the necklace burned bright red, as if it had burst into flames. she dropped it and scrambled, falling on her bottom to try and get away from it, as if her life depended on it.

if henry didn't know better, he would have assumed that the necklace was a snake, a venomous reptile intent on brutally eviscerating cosette's hand.

"uh... cosette? you okay? what is that?"

for some reason, he couldn't hear what she was thinking despite his best efforts. she had locked her mind up and thrown away the key, and was now just breathing heavily without answering.

"... cosette?"

her lanky, skinny body rose up, as if urged by a supernatural force. she turned away from the site, and immediately walked off with purpose, back the way they came from.

"cosette!"

henry jumped to his feet, struggling to run after her so without tripping over them. she was going, and going, and going, and eventually, he couldn't see her anymore. his lungs were starting to panic. henry was utterly alone; cosette was nowhere to be found. he didn't feel comforted by the fact that he had emerged from the forest's treeline and was back to the front of the diner.

_henrietta. cosette?_

nothing. silence. and that was how it stayed for the rest of the year. henry begged his mother to organize search party after search party, trying to find her, her family, her home, any inkling that cosette had even existed.

and there was nothing. henry's mind had been abandoned, alone. there was no one to talk to but himself. she was like a ghost of a dream, someone he had met while asleep.

he returned for the locket a short while after, and it was still in its spot beneath a thin layer of dirt and leaves. the charm in the middle sported a portrait of a girl, brown braids long and lusciously tumbling down her shoulders. her face was stoic, pale, made of perfect marble.

corrupted only by the scar painted into the skin of her cheek, reaching out toward her left ear. 


End file.
